


First Impressions and Second Chances

by TheScholarlyStrumpet (equipoise)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Golden Lace, Porn with Feelings, Rumbelle - Freeform, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, Teacher/Student Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:25:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4580685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/equipoise/pseuds/TheScholarlyStrumpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lacey, leaving behind her party-girl ways, has gone back to college to finish her degree. What she hadn't counted on was Professor Gold testing her at every opportunity. The fact that arguing with him makes her blood run hot is really not helping. </p><p>(For Rowofstars' birthday, I decided to write some Golden Lace Smut. Then feels happened and plot happened and it got long. But the second chapter is pure smut.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rowofstars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/gifts).



Lacey French was too old for this bullshit.

Despite being only a Sophomore at Storybrooke University, she was nearly 27. She had an apartment and a job. Alright, so that job involved having her chest and ass openly ogled as she served beer. Still, it was a real job that helped her pay very real bills. In a sea of pimpled, barely post-pubescent faces, she knew she stuck out.

She wiggled on the uncomfortable wooden chair and tugged at her hemline. This was the longest skirt she owned and it still felt like half of her ass was stuck to the lacquered wood. For all it was a decently acclaimed school, Storybrooke U could really use better funding for its classroom equipment. These chairs were shit and the air conditioning couldn’t possibly be on. It was almost the middle of September but the end of summer heat was still lingering.

“Miss…” The slight, dark-haired professor with the Scottish accent glanced down at his roster, “French? Is there a reason you seem incapable of sitting still in my class?”

She blinked at him, feeling her cheeks burn as all eyes turned to her. “I, uh. I was just trying to get comfortable.” She glanced around the room. “I mean, not that the Dark Ages aren’t super fascinating or anything but these seats are a pain in the ass. Like, literally.”

A few bolder students chuckled. Most stayed silent but she saw some appreciative grins flash across their faces before they turned away.

Professor Gold approached slowly, his cane making a clicking noise on the tiled floor. “I’m very sorry to hear that your comfort is so compromised, my dear. However, I do not appreciate vulgarity in my classroom. Perhaps you would like to take this matter up with the Dean?”

Lacey raised an eyebrow. “Wait, are you, like, sending me to the principal’s office for saying ‘ass’ in your classroom?”

“I’m giving you the option of remaining, _quietly_ , in your seat or taking this matter to Dean Mills. Your call, Miss French.” From his tone of voice, there was clearly only one acceptable answer.

Not one to be cowed, even if she did need the damn History credit, Lacey narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I’ll stay. I’ll just bring a cushion, next time.”

A few more scattered whispers and titters of laughter. Lacey didn’t look around to identify her allies, this time. Her eyes were locked on Gold’s. He seemed to be studying her just as intensely.

His gaze blazed a trail from her demurely crossed ankles to her significantly less demure mini-skirt and finally across her small but well-presented cleavage before returning to her face. On any other man, Lacey would have dismissed the look as the usual lasciviousness. She was accustomed to guys checking her out. It was how she made her best tips. Gold, however, didn’t make it feel so much salacious as it did scrutinizing. She fought the alien urge to cover herself with her arms.

She pressed her lips in a thin line. “Well? Don’t you have a class to teach?” she hissed, her voice low.

“Indeed I do. Are you certain you’re prepared to be a part of it?”

“Yes,” she grit out, humiliated. “Please continue.”

He relented at last, returning to his place behind the desk and taking up a large tome. The lecture continued as though it had never stopped. Lacey sat stock-still for the entire rest of the class. Only the hand taking notes moved.

***

Two months into school, Lacey had settled into an easy enough pattern. She worked 4 nights per week, bringing in just enough to pay for food and her part of the rent on a place she shared with her friend Ariel and Ariel’s fiancé. The rest of the time, she was either in class or studying.

The first time she went to college, she had spent most nights out partying and drinking. Her mother had just passed and it was all she could do to remind herself that she was still alive. Everything had hurt, so she buried it in a mountain of bright flickering lights, over-sweet mixed drinks, and the pulsing beat of the latest dance remix. Almost 10 years of hiding in a crowd so she would't have to face herself. 

Then, her father also passed. Heart attack. He left behind just enough money for her to pull herself out of debt and have a little in her savings. She had been faced with a choice. She could keep up the party-girl lifestyle, a drink in her hand and a new bed each night, or she could actually try and make something of herself.

Lacey had always loved books. Even on her worst days, she could lose herself in a good novel and the world didn’t seem so bad. As an adult, she had spent far less time reading. But now there was talk of the Storybrooke Library finally being reopened. If she finished her Bachelor’s degree, she could apply for the job of head librarian. No one else seemed interested, so she was practically a shoe-in.

With steely determination, she reapplied at Storybrooke U. She’d had enough credits there to start as a sophomore. And, at least she wasn’t the only one. There were a handful of other adult students who had returned like prodigal children to complete their educations. Mary Margaret, a young mother with aspirations of being a nurse, befriended her almost instantly. She also found another friend in Ruby, a waitress she had known in passing. Ruby was 19, but wise for her years. She had been one of those who laughed at Lacey’s dry joke on the second day of Mr. Gold’s History class.

Ah, Mr. Gold. Now there was a mystery wrapped in an enigma and stuffed inside a giant asshole. Even if he did look dapper in the three piece suits he always wore. Even if she had found herself idly looking for a wedding ring upon their first meeting. All Lacey felt for that man was contempt. And maybe a little curiosity. And maybe a little of something else that she kept strictly to her private, night time thoughts.

Asshole he might be, but those fiercely intelligent brown eyes and that accent did… things to her.

She hated him all the more for it.

Lacey had decided on that first day that if he was going to single her out, needlessly, the least she could do was earn it. As it turned out, her History professor's dry sarcasm and mercurial temperament made it just too easy to rile him up. Though that didn't explain exactly why she found it to be so much fun. 

Gold, unsurprisingly, was a purist. There were only certain historical texts he would allow to be used in his classroom. So, Lacey took to doing her own research. She scoured academic journals and checked out several alternate History books, exploring controversy over accepted truths. She referred to her findings often and loudly in class. It was not unusual for the class to come to a screeching halt as the two of them bickered over the finer points of edited editions and new discoveries. She never really felt as though she’d won, but she was proud to have held her own more often than not.

His notes on her homework were equally scathing. It would have hurt less if they hadn’t also been unerringly accurate. He seemed to zone in immediately on the weakest points and tear them to pieces. Lacey worked harder for his class alone than all her others combined.

Stupid Scottish prick.

“Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him!” Lacey slammed her hands down on the table. Ruby looked up at the disturbance. They were sitting in Ruby's dorm room. Her roommate was off with a boyfriend and Ruby had invited Lacey over to study. For the latest quiz in Gold’s, class, of course.

No matter how hard she tried, the information was just not sticking, tonight. She wanted a drink.

“I know. Everyone says he’s the worst. But if we just get through the intro level, we never need to take another class with him. Only History Majors have to put up with his bullshit after this.” Ruby said, soothingly.

Lacey leaned her head on her hand, propping her elbow on the desk. “Why do they inflict him on everyone who takes the intro course, in the first place? I mean, it’s like they are daring us to drop out. Or, drop out again, in my case.”

Ruby snorted, grinning. “Apparently, he’s supposed to be the best. I mean, I guess when you’re that old, you do know a lot about history, right?”

“He’s not that old.” Lacey said, dismissively, still staring miserably at her notes.

“Oh come on, he’s, like, 300 or something. Miserable old man, walking around with his cane…”

“Actually, I think he was injured. You know, ‘cause he limps like that? That’s not an old-guy cane. Plus he’s probably only, like 40. His hair is still mostly brown. Just a little bit of silver in it.” Lacey speculated. She could conjure up Mr. Gold’s face a little too well and she fought the urge to blush at that realization.  

Ruby said nothing and Lacey glanced over at her young friend. The girl was giving her a funny look.

“What?”

Ruby shook her head. “I never noticed shit about his hair. Are you sure you _hate_ Mr. Gold? Because you kinda talk about him like… “

Lacey’s hands instinctively closed into fists. “Of course I hate him,” she defended herself, a little too loudly.

“… like you totally want to do him.” Ruby finished, smugly. “Oh my God, Lace. You’re actually crushing on Professor Gold. You legit want him to, like, throw you down on his desk and make sweet, sweet love-“

Ruby shrieked and ducked as Lacey threw the nearest object (a pillow from her roommate’s bed) at her head. She sat back up laughing and chanting, “Gold and Lacey sitting in a tree! F-U-C-K-I - Ah!!”

Another pillow smacked her in the face. The evening of study quickly deteriorated into a pillow fight, with Ruby still singing loudly and off-key. After Ruby had stopped laughing long enough to catch her breath, the two of them slumped onto the floor by Ruby’s bed.

“You know, it may not be a bad thing. I’m not saying you should do it, but Gold might actually be less horrible if he got laid.” Ruby observed.

“I could get kicked out, Rubes. I’m not risking that. Plus he’s still a total dick. Even if…. ok, let’s say I am sort of - only sort of, mind you - _maybe_ kind of into him, it’s not worth it.” Lacey leaned her head back against the comforter. “I doubt he’d even be interested. Apart from being an asshole, he isn’t the kind of guy I usually attract.”

“Are you kidding?” Ruby exclaimed. “Lady, you are so not paying attention. That man looks at you like he wants to eat you alive. Half the class has a bet going about whether or not you’re already sleeping together.”

“Wait, what? Seriously? Don’t they have better things to do with their time?” Lacey heaved an exasperated sigh. “What am I talking about? They’re college kids, of course they don’t…”

Ruby cleared her throat, loudly. “Ahem… college kid here. I resent that remark. Point is, it’s stupidly obvious he has a thing for you. If you’re lucky, maybe it’s a _big_ thing.” She giggled and made an obscene gesture with her hands.

Lacey rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at her lips. “Oh stop it. All Gold and I ever do is argue.”

“Have you, like, never read Shakespeare? That’s practically foreplay to some people.” Ruby shrugged. “I mean, I’d prefer a nice dinner or something but whatever.” Ruby stood up, straightening her high-waisted shorts and returned to her desk. “But you’re right. You really shouldn’t fuck a teacher. I don’t think you could get in trouble for it, but it wouldn’t look good. Plus,” she wrinkled her nose, “no offence, but… it’s _Mr._ _Gold_...”

Lacey crossed her arms over her chest and frowned at the floor. Yeah, that was the problem. Because she did enjoy arguing with him, the way it got her blood pumping and her heart racing. Because he challenged her and excited her and just thinking about him made her cunt throb with want. But at the same time… he was _Mr. Gold_ , possibly the most disliked faculty member in the school. The most natural enemy she had made in her adult life. And he was still her teacher for another two months.

***

Class time with Gold got a lot less bearable now that Ruby’s observation was echoing in her mind. Thinking her crush had been one sided was bad enough. Now that Ruby had shattered that illusion, she realized how incredibly blatant they both had been. Lacey wasn't usually one to give in easily but she needed to get though this class and though it had been spurring her on, this tug of war with Gold was also a distraction.  

So, she did the only thing she could think of to salvage the semester.

She started backing away from topics that might have incited her at any other time. She held her tongue during discussions she would have loved to lead. She even debated moving to a seat further back in the classroom, but Gold seemed to prefer they keep to the seats they had taken the first day. So, she was stuck in the front row, trying not to meet his eyes, but feeling them frequently on her. At first, Gold gave no indication that he noticed a difference. By the third week of her near non-participation, he called on her quite unexpectedly.

“Miss French, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet. No insight to share with us on the painting of the Sistine chapel? Anything you gleaned outside of the assigned reading?” He arched one eyebrow, a dare in his gaze.

Refusing to take whatever bait he seemed to be throwing out, Lacey shook her head. “No, Mr. Gold. Nothing at all.”

Disappointment flashed across his face but was quickly chased away by his usual dour expression. “Fine. Everyone turn to page 342. I need a volunteer to read.”

And so it went.

A couple of days later, Lacey finally remembered to check her school mailbox. Amongst the memos, party flyers, and book sale notices, she found a printed article with her name scrawled at the top. She almost didn’t recognize the handwriting but the title caught her eye, immediately.

**Ten Open Controversies about the Painting of the Sistine Chapel**

Lacey’s mouth fell open. Oh. Oh, this couldn’t be good.

She traced a fingertip across the top, where Gold had written her name and nothing else. No other indication of what it meant. Though, the blood rushing to both her cheeks and her pudenda told her she knew exactly what it meant.

Oh, she was so fucked. Because, this was as clear an invitation as he could probably make in his position. And Lacey knew in that moment that she _desperately_ wanted to say yes.

***

Gold’s office hours were almost over when she finally gathered the courage to knock on his door. At first there was no answer and she began to turn away. Then, it creaked open.

He was clearly surprised to see her. “Miss French.”

Wordlessly, Lacey held up the photocopied article he had sent her.

Gold’s Adam’s apple bobbed noticeably. “I always encourage supplemental reading, Miss French, but we have moved on from that particular topic.”

“Then why give me this?” Lacey pushed past him into his office. It was a long, narrow room. The wall to her right was covered in bookshelves, so full they looked ready to burst. On her left, a long desk ran the length of the small room, with a computer and chair at the far end. His discarded suit jacket was hanging on the back of his office chair. Papers were stacked in neat piles next to the keyboard. Two other chairs sat side by side at the back, just past the computer.

Ignoring the chairs, Lacey hopped up onto an empty section of the desk and looked back at him.

“Please do, come in.” Gold said dryly, closing the door and turning back toward her.

“Well?” Lacey brandished the article at him.

Gold seemed to be looking at everything but her. “I put that in your mailbox last week. It was… You’d started off this semester with an avid interest in… alternate histories. That seemed to have tapered off. I thought that might…. Interest you.”

Lacey swung her legs a little, watching him. If she didn’t know better, she’d say Mr. Gold actually looked… nervous. She liked that notion. Liked the thought that _she_ could do that to him. Sliding down from the desk, she crossed to where he still stood by the door. She swiveled her hips as she approached and oh yes, he noticed. He was just trying to pretend he hadn’t.

She dropped her voice to that husky register that no guy in her experience could resist. “Why would you care what _interests_ me? All you ever do is try and shut me down.”

Gold said nothing.

She stopped when she was just near enough to touch, near enough feel the heat rolling off of him in waves. And there it was: that spark of _something_ between them that made her stomach flip and her pussy clench. She had never been this close to him before. At this distance, it was magnified to a devastating intensity. Though he still would not meet her gaze, she could tell he was affected. His nostrils flared and the rise and fall of his chest was noticeably heavy beneath his silk tie and expensive looking shirt.

Gold looked up at last, his half-lidded eyes glittered darkly. “You can be very… distracting. To my class.”

“Hmm, the class doesn’t seem to mind… In fact, the only person to take issue with me at all seems to be you. Why is that?” She cocked her head to the side, practically daring him to come right out and admit it. Had he wanted her from that very first day? Was that why he was so harsh with her? Well, whatever it was, she had him now and they both knew. But she wouldn’t make it easy. She’d make him beg for it.

“Why are you here, Miss French?”

The question came as a non sequitur and Lacey was taken aback. “In your office?”

“At this school.”

That took the wind out of her sails. Lacey backed away. “What? I’m not even good enough for Storybrooke U? This ain’t exactly Ivy League, Professor. Whatever lofty notions you seem to have.”

Gold smoothed a hand over his hair. “Yes, I am aware of that. Luckily, I did not take this job for prestige.”

Lacey scoffed. “No, it seems to me that you took it so you could bully around a bunch of know-nothing kids from Small Town, USA. Is that how you get your fucking kicks, or something?”

His face hardened. “You presume too much, Miss French. I am still an authority figure and I do not appreciate either your language or your insinuations.”

“Insinuations, my ass, Mr. Gold. I’m flat out saying it. You know what? I can’t care what you think of me, anymore. I know that I belong here just as much as any other student. I had the test scores. I wrote the fucking essays. What am I doing here?  What the hell are you doing here? How can you teach anyone when all you do is pick fights? You thrive off of confrontation. You like to make the rest of us feel small and petty and…” Her voice trailed off and she realized she was getting carried away by her anger. And that Gold had that same look in his eye that he did when they argued in class. Ruby was wrong; he didn’t look ready to eat her. He looked as though he could devour her whole. He looked like a feral cat ready to pounce. And that desire came flooding back in a rush, pooling at the apex of her thighs. She faltered, leaning back against the desk. 

“And?” Gold prompted, advancing. He’d scented blood, sensed her weakness. If she wasn’t careful, he’d go in for the kill. And she’d be helpless to stop him because all she really wanted to do at this point was give in.

“And why did you leave me this stupid article if you don’t even respect my contributions to the class?” she finished, weakly.

This time, he hesitated. “Miss French….” He pressed the hand not holding his cane to his chest. “I have the utmost respect for you. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t challenge you to defend your point of view.”

Lacey’s brow furrowed. “You just tried to tell me I don’t belong at this school,” she pointed out. “What kind of respect does that show?”

“You don’t.” When Lacey scowled, Gold held up his hand in a placating gesture. “I’ve _seen_ your test scores. And I _grade_ your essays. You could have gone to a much better school than this one. You’ve limited yourself severely. Why go here?”

“I had credits, from before.”

Gold made a dismissive noise. “Credits are transferable. Not good enough.”

Lacey crossed her arms and glared at him. “You really wanna know? Okay, fine. I wasn’t born here but I’ve lived in Storybrooke most of my life. Both my parents are buried here. And I wasted almost a decade just fucking around, not accomplishing a damn thing. I’m a 27 year old bartender and waitress whose biggest dream is to work in the new Storybrooke Library once it’s finished. Where else would I go but Storybrooke U? Who else would even want me?” Her voice broke unexpectedly on the last question and she stared at him in horror. She hadn't even realized she'd been thinking it until she said the words out loud. There were tears burning at the backs of her eyes. She blinked them away.

He looked nearly as stricken as she felt. He moved as though to reach for her.

 “I… have to go.” Without another word, she pushed past him and out of the office door, letting it slam behind her.

***

Lacey used her one excused absence from Gold’s class the next week. She would have to go again on Thursday but at least it was a small respite. Or so she had hoped.

Tuesday night found her cleaning the bar when the familiar tapping sound of a cane on tile made her look up. Mr. Gold stood in the doorway of The Rabbit Hole, looking as out of place as he probably felt. He swallowed and squared his shoulders, then seemed to see her behind the bar. They held one another’s gaze for a moment before he looked away.

Alright, then. He was uncomfortable. And on _her_ territory. She could work with that.

He strode to the bar and stood a few stools away from one of her regulars. “Miss French.”

Her regular, a sleazeball named Keith, looked up and snorted. “Lace, get a load of this fucker.”

Gold ignored the inebriated man. “A word, please?”

Lacey licked her lips. “I’m a little busy, right now. Can I get you a drink while you wait?” It was a bald-faced lie. She was clearly not busy. Except for Keith, no one else sat at the bar and there were only a handful of customers at the tables.

Gold’s lips pressed into a thin line but he sat down. “Scotch. Neat. Please.”

She poured two fingers of their most expensive. He could afford it. Everyone knew that teaching was not how really how Gold made his living. He also owned and rented several properties in town. She had never rented from him, herself. But she heard he was an even harsher landlord than he was a professor. He laid two 20 dollar bills on the bar as she pushed the drink toward him.

“Keep the change,” he murmured.

A few seats away, Keith was watching the exchange. “Fucking high roller, huh?”

“That’s enough out of you.” Lacey snapped at him.

“Oh fuck you, Lacey. You… you’re not a boss to me. Of me. You’re just the skank who serves me my drinks. Bar wench. Tavern slut.” Keith guffawed. “Gimme ‘nother drink Bar slut!”

Lacey glared openly at him, now. “You’ve had enough, Keith. Go the fuck home or I’m calling the sheriff, again.”

Keith got up, unsteadily, but instead of walking away, he moved closer to where she stood. “You shut your cakehole. Cock hole. Ha!” He looked around as though someone would find him clever besides himself. No one did. Though, Gold was watching him intensely, now.

Keith slammed his hands down on the bar. Lacey jumped back slightly, in surprise.

“Be a good bar bitch and pour the damn drink.”

Lacey shook her head and pointed to the door. “Out. And you better not be driving. I know they already took away your license.”

Without warning, Keith lunged over the bar toward her. Lacey shrieked and darted away. Suddenly, Keith pulled back, making a gurgling noise. Lacey realized that Mr. Gold had managed to get the larger man in a chokehold, his cane pressed to Keith’s windpipe.

“That was a very stupid thing to do. And you are a disgraceful excuse for a man to talk to a woman that way.” Gold growled at Keith.

The younger man was clawing at the cane, trying to reach behind him and pry Gold off. But Keith was clumsy and slow and Gold was apparently stronger than he looked. 

“Apologize.” Gold hissed.

“Fuck. You. Old. Man.”

Keith made one last desperate attempt but Gold held fast, pulling the cane tighter. Keith made a retching noise, his face turning red. His arms slumped to his sides. Gold released him and Keith fell to his knees, gasping.

“Now, apologize to the young lady and then leave. And don’t come back here unless you can act like a gentleman. In your case, it might be better if you simply never return. ” Gold’s voice was low and deadly. Despite the exertion, his hair and jacket were only slightly mussed.

Keith, on the other hand, was a completely mess. He looked up at Lacey with red, bulging eyes. “I’m sorry,” he grit out insincerely.

Lacey, nearly frozen to the spot as the spectacle played out, shook her head. “Yeah, okay. I accept. Just… just go.”

Keith scrambled to his feet and fled.

Lacey and Gold stared at one another across the bar. Her hands shook and she hid them behind her back. Gold was panting slightly and ran a hand through his hair to smooth it. He slipped the same hand into his inner jacket pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. He moved to the bar and held it out to her.

“I… brought you your assignment. There’s a quiz on Thursday.”

Still trying to process what had just happened, Lacey nodded dumbly and took the piece of paper. “Um, thanks.”

Gold nodded as well.

They both seemed to realize that every eye in the place was now on them. Lacey turned to the scattered customers. “Oh, come on you lot. Nothing you haven’t seen before. Just Keith being an asshole and trying to start some shit. Mr. Gold, here, was nice enough to take care of it. So, either step up next time or stop your gawking.”

A mutter ran through the crowd as they all turned back to their drinks. The low hum of conversation, punctuated by clacking sounds from the pool table, resumed.

Lacey turned back to Gold and held up the homework. “Thanks for bringing this. And for helping with… you know, that. But it really wasn’t necessary. Keith does shit like that all the time. Just scare tactics. I usually call the sheriff and he spends a rough night sleeping it off in a cell.”

Gold’s brow furrowed. “He attacked you, Miss French.”

Lacey shrugged. “He wouldn’t have done anything. Just a scare tactic,” she repeated, suddenly feeling vulnerable and loathing the feeling. “Where did you even learn to…?”

Gold gave a wry grin. “I’m a wealthy man who walks with a cane and lives alone. I’ve invested in more than one self-defense class.”

“Oh. Right. That makes sense.” Lacey picked up a glass she’d already cleaned and began cleaning it again, just to occupy her hands. Silence descended.

Gold broke it, first. “May I.. Miss French, if you don’t mind, I’d like to walk you to your car, tonight.”

“Don’t have a car. I only live a block away.” She jerked her head in the direction of her apartment.

Gold looked taken aback. “Then… please permit me to escort you home? I know you don’t believe that Keith character to be dangerous, but it would… ease my conscience to see you arrive home unharmed.”

Lacey sucked air through her teeth as she looked at him. He didn’t seem the type to try and take advantage. And for all she knew, Keith was lying in wait. Usually by this point in the evening, he was passed out or in a holding cell. “Okay,” she agreed. “Just in case.”

***

Once she had closed up the bar and counted the register, Gold was dozing slightly in a nearby chair. She nudged him awake. He held the door for her on the way out and didn’t even appear to be checking out her ass. Lacey had no idea what to make of this man.

She told him as much as they strolled down the block.

Gold shrugged. “I am… a difficult man. I make no bones about that. I hold the people I meet to a very high standard - with myself no less accountable.”

“You can have high standards without being an asshole to people.” Lacey observed.

“Maybe _you_ can, Miss French." Gold chuckled. "Those of us who are… not so genetically gifted must make do with other natural talents.”

Lacey stopped in her tracks. “So, wait, you’re saying that I can expect people to treat me better because I’m pretty?”

Gold’s mouth twisted. “It was just a quip… I meant it as a compliment.”

“Yeah, well compliment not accepted.” Lacey crossed her arms. “You don’t know the first thing about me, Mr. Gold. But you’ve been making all these assumptions since day one. Basing your opinion of me on some image you seem to have constructed in your head. And you’re so arrogant… it never even occurs to you to just ask, does it? ” She shook her head, not waiting for him to answer. “God… You yell at me in class, belittle me. And then tell me you think I’m too smart for the school where _you_ teach. You show up at my work...to give me homework! But then insist on acting like a gentleman and keeping me safe on my way home. Who does that?”

Gold looked crestfallen and Lacey wished she hadn’t spoken so rashly. But the words were out and she couldn’t take them back.

“I… apologize for the confusion. I won’t trouble you again with my… bothersome opinions.” He said stiffly.

“They aren’t…” Lacey sighed. “You’re right about some things, okay? I do get treated differently because of my looks. But it’s not in the way you think. No one has ever taken me seriously. Not since I hit puberty. Because I’m ‘genetically gifted’ as you put it. I gave in when I was younger. I just became what everyone wanted me to be. But it was never enough. I want to be so much more than that pretty girl who looks good in a mini-skirt. And the way you treat me in class… sometimes I feel like you’re challenging me because you think I can’t keep up. But then after what you said in your office…”she trailed off, not really sure where she was going and suddenly distracted by the musky scent of his cologne and the silver in his hair that glinted in the moonlight. _When had they moved so close to one another?_

“I should never have said that,” Gold admitted. “Yes, you are bright enough to get into Ivy League, but Storybrooke is a good school and it’s… lucky to have you. And I shouldn’t have pried into your personal affairs. And I shouldn’t have come to your work, tonight.” He ran a hand over his face and gave a humorless laugh. “And I shouldn’t be walking you home at 3 in the morning, spilling my proverbial guts at your feet.” He looked down, his hair falling toward his face.

The corners of Lacey’s mouth wanted to turn up, so she let them. Instinctively, she reached toward Gold, tucking the loose hair behind his ear. “You’re wrong about something else, too,” she said softly.

His eyes searched hers. “What’s that?”

“You’re pretty genetically gifted, yourself, Mister.”

He scoffed. “Now I know why you sat in the front row. You clearly need your eyes checked.”

“Or maybe I needed to be close enough to see if you were wearing a wedding ring.” Lacey teased.

“That’s a rather inappropriate thought for your first day of class.” Gold observed, but he sounded a little breathless.

“I’m a rather inappropriate girl.” Lacey framed his face with her hands and brushed her lips lightly to his. “Is… is this okay?” she whispered against his lips.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around her and crushing her to him. Her hands buried in his hair as she gave in at last to temptation, tilting her head to deepen the kiss. His tongue traced the seam of her lips and she opened for him. She let herself get lost in the taste of him, feeling him start to harden against her hip.

He broke the kiss, pulling away. “I.. this isn’t… I am still your professor. And we can’t… Not while you’re in my class.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes squeezed shut. “What I’m trying to say… very poorly at the moment, is that I… am interested in you… obviously. And that has, I’ll allow, already clouded my judgement regarding our… classroom interactions. From here on, I will be turning your work over to the TA for grading.”

Lacey nodded slowly, her core still thrumming with need, his taste still on her lips. “Is that why you singled me out that first day? Because you… liked me?”

Gold grimaced. “That was… badly handled at the time. I am not accustomed to… that kind of distraction in my classroom.”

“Really?” she asked, skeptically. “No naughty schoolgirl fantasies?”

It was hard to tell in the pale, thin light but she could swear he blushed. “I don’t date students, Miss French.”

“So, if I were to invite you up to mine, tonight….?” Lacey tilted her head to the side, gauging his reaction.

He had a pained expression. “I would be forced to say that…. I don’t date students. And perhaps ask you if you would like to have dinner after this semester is over?”

Lacey grinned. “When I won’t be your student, anymore.”

“Precisely.”

Lacey licked her lips, enjoying the way his dark eyes followed the movement of her tongue. “I’ll think about it.”

***

A few weeks later, Lacey knocked on his office door and Mr. Gold opened it immediately.

She beamed at him. “I just finished my last final. The semester is over.”

Gold said nothing, his mouth falling open.

“I… believe there was a mention of dinner?” Lacey prodded, her heart in her throat.

He blinked at her, a slow smile gracing his face. “I’ll get my coat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's where the story ends, though I'll probably take prompts. Chapter 2 is pure PWP for these two ;-)


	2. Bonus: Office Smut!

“Mr. Gold, this paper is an A and you know it.” Lacey planted her hands on her hips.

Gold leaned back in his chair, taking in her ridiculously short pleated skirt and the tight button-up blouse atop it. She felt his eyes on her body, caressing each curve. She licked her lips.

He arched one eyebrow. “It was a B at best and I hardly think you could convince me, otherwise.”

She strode over to him. “No? Are you certain I couldn’t find a way to convince you?” She played with the hem of her skirt.

Gold stood up, his cock already straining against his fly. “What did you have in mind?” he asked.

Lacey closed the distance between them and wrapped both arms around his neck. His hands came to her hips, grasping them through the cheap material of her skirt. Desire pooled between her thighs and she pressed them together in anticipation. He leaned toward her and she pulled back.

“Uh uh. You haven’t said if you’ll change it, yet”

His eyes narrowed and he pulled her flush against him. “And what, pray tell, will you do to earn that?” His voice was rough, his accent even thicker than usual.

Lacey’s knees went weak for a moment before she remembered herself. “Whatever you want me to do, Professor.” She batted her lashes at him.

Gold leaned back with a frown. “Lacey, I feel ridiculous.”

Lacey rolled her eyes. “You promised. Whatever fantasy I wanted, remember?” She rolled her hips into his. “I’ll make it worth your while.” She added in a sing-song voice.

Gold’s eyes darkened. He studied her for a minute, a mischievous smile playing around his lips. His hands left her hips and came to his tie, loosening it and pulling it off. “Turn around, Miss French” he ordered, falling back into character.

A frisson of excitement ran down her spine as Lacey obeyed. In her peripheral, she saw him lean his cane against the desk beside her.

He stepped in close and Lacey caught her breath as he captured both of her wrists and pulled them crisscrossed behind her. He secured them with the silk tie.

“Not too tight?” his breath tickled her ear and she shivered. Her nipples hard against the cotton button-down.

“It’s fine,” she whispered.

“Good.” With one knee, he nudged her legs apart. “Stay there and don’t move or talk unless I tell you to.”

Lacey bit her lip as she felt his hands smooth up the backs of her thighs. They followed the curve of her buttocks (unhindered by underwear) and kneaded the flesh there. She heard a shuffling sound behind her and fought the urge to look. To her surprise, she felt Gold’s stubble against her inner thigh. She knew the angle would not be easy for him with his bum leg. As he breathed hotly across her sex, Lacey wondered if she ought to call a halt, after all. But Gold was a proud, determined man. Stopping him now would only cause a row. And as much as they still enjoyed riling one another up, Lacey didn’t want to mar this moment by questioning his physical capabilities. He had proved her wrong more than once in that respect, anyway.

Then his tongue ran the length of her slit and she had to return her attention to remaining upright. He teased her entrance with the tip of his tongue, then shifted forward to flick the underside of her clit. Lacey gasped and widened her stance. To her chagrin, he withdrew. She heard him rearrange his limbs and without warning, felt his teeth sink into her left buttock. She yelped, her bound hands flexing at her lower back. He soothed the hurt with his tongue, giving a low rumble of laughter at her reaction.

“Couldn’t resist,” he murmured.

Lacey made a noise of impatience and was rewarded with a swift smack to the other buttock. She bit her lip this time to stop herself from crying out. He landed another smack and then another, alternating cheeks. The skin tingled and she struggled not to shunt her hips back toward him. He smoothed both hands over her ass, his thumbs trailing the crease. Her legs shook.

“What should I do with you, Miss French? You may answer.” He added the last as an afterthought.

“Please… fuck me, Professor?” she mewled.

“Well, at least you’ve learned some manners.” He said, archly, and she heard him standing up. The jingle of his belt buckle and zip of his fly. One hand between her thighs tested her readiness, spreading the moisture there. Lacey moaned.

The blunt head of his cock prodded at her lips and her stomach tightened, her whole body bow-string taut with need. He pushed into her achingly slowly. His hands returned to her ass, spreading her open and he slid forward into her wet heat. At long last, he filled her completely, his hips pressing against her. He pulled out and pushed back in with the same concentrated purpose.

Lacey clenched her hands, pulling against the tie that held them. Gold noticed her frustration and chuckled.

“So greedy…”

Lacey whimpered, squeezing him with her inner muscles. Behind her, Gold swore and his cock gave an answering pulse. But he took the hint. This time when he withdrew, he slammed into her harder. Grabbing her bound hands and using them for leverage, he pistoned his hips. Lacey groaned her appreciation as he set up a punishing pace. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to that breaking point. His thrusts became frantic and she could tell he was close, as well. One hand returned to the front of her body to rub her sensitive nub. The other hand slid between her buttocks, circling the puckered hole there with a damp finger.

The sensation was overwhelming. It was too much and yet just enough. Heat flooded her limbs and fireworks sparked behind her eyes. She felt her own wetness dripping down her thighs as she screamed her release. Gold followed almost immediately.

She slumped back against him and he held her upright, her hands trapped between them.

He nuzzled the back of her ear. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

***

FIN


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